Torn Threads
by pwincessval
Summary: A coming to age tale about the hardships of being a homosexual towel.
1. Beneath the Fibers

It was hard to say the least, being a towel. Discrimination still occurs in the 21st century, which puts a strain my social life. Forget about finding love! All a towel could do was live day by day, and get a little high.

I go by Towelie, but people only remember me by the advice I leave. "Don't forget to bring a towel!" or, "If you're going to get wet, always be sure to bring a towel," I always say. Giving everyone advice gets fucking tiring after a while. Where's my help? Who cares about me? Nobody ever does, or ever will. Damn, this bud is LOUD. I'm glad Butters started making himself useful and became a dealer. Best in town, I say. He's grown up a lot over the years. Although he's still bullied by the boys, he's become tolerable. Maybe it's the fact that he finally had the strength to come out that I never did that draws me to him. A gay towel? I'd be burned alive, never to be used again.

Anyway, South Park has turned out to be one of the largest towns in the area, even beating North Park by a few hundred. Was it the chaos that occurs regularly or the fact that a local towel wrote a book that was featured on Oprah twice? I'd prefer the latter. Man, I miss getting away with crazy shit. I turned soft along with my career. At least I get to live off royalties, getting this quality weed costs a fiber and a thread! Maybe I could spend some of the cash on getting a fetish website built for local gay towels. Ha, that's a laugh.

I could hear knocking on the door. Who would it be other than that fat ass Eric Cartman.

"Yo, Towelie," he said coolly, "There's a party at Tweek's, gonna be HUGE. You down?"

I thought about it for a bit before answering. All the guys would be there, maybe even… no. I shouldn't get my hopes up. "Hell yeah, I'll go. Butters getting the weed?"

Cartman sighed, sounding like a walrus, "Ugh, yeah probably. I wouldn't touch it, though. You may catch the fag."

"Shut the fuck up! Saying shit like that is so 2004, dude," I yelled as a took a toke from my spliff. He laughed, then rode his bike home. How the fuck a 400 pound person could ride such a cheap bike, I will never know. I don't really care though, as long as I see Bradley, nothing else matters.


	2. Getting The Purp

Bradley Biggle is the love of my life. We've been through so much together. Last summer, I went with his family to the beach. When Bradley's mom found him on top of me in the sand, I was scared he would be sent away. Mrs. Biggle was calm about it, though. I would be underwhelmed too if I had Henrietta as a daughter. Last I heard, she was working at the library. Have to pay for a smack habit somehow, I guess. She despises Brad more than anyone else, and believe me, she hates everyone but the other goth kids. He did get her sent to rehab her senior year, so she didn't get to graduate. I almost felt bad for her, but then I realized I didn't really care. Good thing pot's legal here.

I check the clock. Seven forty-five, might as well head on over to Tweek's. It was pretty chilly tonight, even more than usual. Nights like this make me wish they made jackets in towel sizes. Whatever. I see a broad figure coming up to me in the distance.

"Towelie!" he said, "You catching the party tonight?"

"You know it, Ken. Heard it's going to kick ass. How's Tammy?"

"Well," he explained, "With her away in Denver and all, things got a little shitty for me. We talk every day, though. Skyping every night makes up for everything, trust me."

Kenny always had a way with the ladies, despite being lost for words most of the time. Even with every girl in his class drooling over him, he still stuck with Tammy. Don't get me wrong, she's a pretty cool girl, but how could someone like Kenny ever settle down? It blows my mind. She's definitely doing something right.

We finally made our way to Tweek's in the cold. Boy, was Cartman right about this party! Chill music, booze, even brownies. Damn, I love brownies, especially when they're laced with the loud. Brownies and weed are so beautiful together, they really do make a cute couple. Speaking of couples, I need to find Brad. It's been almost a week since we've been together, but it feels like years.

Nope, he's nowhere to be found. Figures he couldn't make it out to the party. The only event he'd miss school for is Comic Con. He's becoming more of a celebrity every year, inspiring cosplays and whatnot. Man, I love my little nerd.

"Yo, man," I heard Craig scream from the top of the stairs, "You have to see this!"

I walked up, thinking if this somehow stimulated boring, wet blank Craig that it must be exciting. It was the master bedroom, where Bebe and Wendy were making out. Fucking gross, dude. Wait, Craig wasn't talking about them. He handed me a blunt, probably the biggest I had ever seen. You could tell by the scent that it was quality. Taking a hit, I checked it out, even catching the purple tint to it. I wonder how Tweek got a hold of it. All of a sudden, I was being dragged into the hallway by Butters.


	3. Long Live the Car Crash Hearts

There he was, crumpled in the hospital bed. He looked like a huge human-shaped gauze. Why Bradley? Why was the only outcome of him finally coming to see me the end of his life? Butters looked at me, almost reading my mind.

"He's still fighting, Towelie. You know how strong he is. He's going to make it."

As he said that, I tried to wipe a tear from my eye, but is was absorbed in my towel exterior. I have never felt so emotionally broken before. How could I let a single person control my emotions like this? He's everything I have. This isn't fair! How could he be taken from me so soon?

Butters whispered, "I can't take this atmosphere. Smoke break?" He's DEFINITELY reading my mind.

Butters drove us down to Waffle House in town before heading to my place. Waffle House hit the spot just right: triple hashbrowns, double smothered, triple covered. Despite stereotypes, a towel can EAT. Butters just drank black coffee, waiting for me to finish. Instead of leaving the waitress a tip, I left her a sticky note saying: "No, YOU'RE a towel." for pissing me off. Dumb bitch thinks a towel doesn't have a right to a fucking meal at Waffle House!

We made our way to my basement when Butters got out the nug. It smelled so skrong! Butters's gravity bong made it even better. What a great way to take my mind off Bradley. Weird, Butters started touching my hand. Maybe it was on accident, who knows. I went on about my business, baked like a cake.

"Towelie, I know this is a really bad time, but I have something to tell you," Butters confessed, "...but I can't really put it into words." What is he going on about? Suddenly, he leaned in to kiss me. Dude, how fucking weak. Why does Butters like the one gay guy in the group? More importantly, why do I care? And why the FUCK did I kiss him back?

Something about kissing Butters just felt right. There was more than a spark. I could feel so much passion, even though we both aren't in love with each other. I'm not inlove with him, anyway. _If I'm not, why would I kiss him with Bradley on my mind? _I really wish I could care at this point, but I'm too high and horny to think, especially seeing Butters's tight abs. Seeing how hot he was made me jealous about not having such a hot ass. My nonexistent gag reflex makes up for it, and Butters definitely proved that. This all felt so wrong, yet so right. Fuck being an emotional towel.


End file.
